


I'm Not Calling You A Liar

by KatStratford



Series: Bucky Barnes, Patron Saint of Desperate Nurses [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Jane the nurse, Oral Sex, tea & sympathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3899926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatStratford/pseuds/KatStratford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is James Barnes. Give him tea & sympathy and he’ll treat you right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Calling You A Liar

In the candlelight, he was pale and wide-eyed, like a ghost or a stray cat. Jane laughed to herself at her overactive imagination. 

He looked at her curiously and said, “What?”

“My what big eyes you have,” she replied, checking on the kettle. “Do you Yanks have that fairy tale?”

“Yes,” James Barnes said. “I’m not a wolf. I don’t think.” He gave her a small smile.

“Well I’m not a babe in the woods either, so don’t worry yourself.” 

 

_He’d appeared at her hospital the morning prior with a letter from her friend on the front. The poor boy had gone ashen when he’d seen her, and it’d taken a moment to remember she was still wearing her bloody surgical apron._

_Ruth’s letter, among other gossip, had said, “You said all we Yankees had was farm-boys, well, I found you one from the big city! This is James Barnes. Give him tea & sympathy and he’ll treat you right. And do me a favor: talk him out of following his hot-dogging best friend back to the front. I want to be able to look him up for a dance when this dumb war is over.”_

_Jane had known there were entire paragraphs between Ruth’s lines. She’d taken another look at Barnes, who’d pulled himself together and set his jaw against the antiseptic smell of the recovery ward. He’d given her what he probably thought was a rakish grin, and she’d laughed despite herself. She’d found a prescription pad and written her address on it. “Meet me here at 6pm tomorrow,” she’d said. “You’re on leave, yeah?”_

_“Yes, ma’am,” he’d said, grin tipping into real happiness. “Can I bring anything?”_

_Jane had summoned up a bit of deeply-buried flirtatiousness and responded, “Just your handsome self, soldier.”_

 

Now here he was, hunched over a cup of weak tea, telling her he had a ma and four sisters back in Brooklyn. Jane thought she’d been working in the surgical theatre too long to have forgotten that these boys had mothers and sisters and not just arms and legs to be saved or sawed off. 

Barnes tilted his head and said, “I lost you there, huh?” and she realized she’d let her thoughts wander too far from his warm presence in her tiny flat.

She blinked at him as he sat perched on the edge of one of her mismatched kitchen chairs, and smiled. “If you’re not the wolf, maybe you’re a giant?” she teased. “You look fit to burst out of that chair.”

“Well, no offense meant, but I was actually kinda wondering if this is doll furniture.”

She laughed, “It’s Victorian. They were a very narrow sort, the Victorians.”

“You’re not narrow, though,” he said, twinkle in his eyes as he looked her over. She was in just her dressing gown, its soft fabric clinging to her hips and bosom. She hadn’t wanted him to get the impression that he was actually here for tea.

“No.” She smiled. “Nothing much Victorian about me, really.” She leaned forward and kissed him, and he opened up for her like a flower in the sun. His hands came to rest on her waist then slid up to settle just below her breasts. He was solid and sure against her, his tongue teasing sweetly just inside her mouth. She buried her hands in his hair. Oh, she’d missed this, the hot slide against her lips, the catch of hard teeth on soft flesh. 

She half-fell, half-squirmed into his lap, wanting him over and around and in her. But his hands stayed at her sides until she pushed them to the belt of her robe and gasped, “Go on and undo me, then.”

The chair gave an ominous creak as he pushed the gown off of her shoulders. “I hope your bed isn’t Victorian, too,” he said breathlessly, standing and lifting her like a rag doll.

“No,” she said, kissing along the lovely pale stretch of his neck as he carried her. “It can take a beating.”

He set her down gently on the bed in the corner and said, “Well, that’s certainly not what we’re doing here,” with amusement.

She laughed and pushed her hair out from under her shoulders. He was unbuttoning his shirt, so she rested her hand on his thigh, warm and strong and whole. When his shirt was off, he took her hand and placed it on his belt. “Wanna do the honors?” He grinned.

She leaned up on her elbows and undid his belt & trousers with deliberate slowness, just to make him pay for such a terrible line. Here, she was close enough to smell his arousal, dark and pungent. Her mouth watered and she tilted forward to lick at his soft stomach. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said thickly, putting his hand on the back of her head. “Please.”

She wasn’t a babe in the woods. She’d been a married woman, even if some days that old life felt like a dream. She knew what he was asking for. 

Jane sat up fully and pushed her hands into his trousers. His hands joined hers in pushing them off. She flipped onto her stomach as he undid his boots, then draped herself over his lap. He gathered her loose hair in his hands as she gave the head of his dick a lush, wet kiss. 

“Oh,” Barnes gasped, sliding his hands to her breasts. “Oh, darling, let me.” He pressed at her nipples, the soft rhythm of his fingers going straight to her cunt. 

She kept running her tongue over his cock, amused by how different a circumcised one was, the way it twitched in her hand and leaked onto her fingers. He moved his hands to pat at her shoulders and said, “I’m not gonna last if you keep that up.”

Jane looked up at him and said, “That’s fine as long as you’re willing to return the favor.”

He grinned. “Well, not to brag or anything, but let’s just say I was very popular back in Brooklyn, and it wasn’t for my dancing skills.”

She had to crane her neck and kiss his mouth for that. He cupped her jaw and pushed his tongue in deep, making her moan. She broke the kiss but took her time on her way back down, tasting his skin and letting her breasts slide over his wet cock. He was panting by the time she sucked him down. She worked her hand tightly over his shaft and he began a litany of, “Yes, yes, christ, yes,” before coming, hot and salty on her tongue.

Jane looked up and found him dazed and damp with sweat. She patted his cheek and he focused enough to say, “That was amazing.”

“Better than your Brooklyn girls?” she said, feeling smug.

He shook his head, reaching down to manhandle her into his lap. “It’d be unpatriotic of me to say,” he replied diplomatically, wiping her face off with a broad palm. “Do you want to lie down?”

“If that’s what you want me to do,” she teased, leaning back until her head hit the pillow.

He followed and kissed her fiercely, then said, “I want to take real good care of you.” He sat up and gently brushed her hair from her neck and shoulders, a faraway smile on his lips. “I miss this,” he said softly, and she knew he didn’t just mean sex. Jane woke up often enough reaching for a body that wasn’t there to know how it felt to ache simply for warm skin under your hands. 

He touched her breasts, her stomach, the thin skin on the insides of her elbows. He ran his fingers over her thighs, gently teasing along the seam of her legs until she parted them. Then he reached in and petted at her cunt, slowly sliding two fingertips through the wetness he found there.

She whimpered when he pulled his hand away, until he quietly said, “Hey, look here,” and when she did, he slid those two fingers into his mouth. “Oh,” she breathed. His eyes drifted closed as he licked her taste off of his skin. 

“Please,” she whispered, echoing his earlier plea. He didn’t say anything, just nodded and shifted down. He nuzzled at her belly before settling and spreading her cunt open with one hand.

Then his tongue was on her, gently licking over her swollen flesh and she whined, because lord, she missed this too. He shoved her legs farther apart and pushed his face into her cunt, rubbing his mouth all over her. She put a hand on his head to slow him. He took a deep breath then suckled at her clit until she keened, his movements dragging pleasure through every inch of her body.

“Close,” she gasped. “I need.” 

“Shhhhhh,” he hissed against her, and she shuddered at the breath over her tender skin. His hand slid up her thigh and moved in beside his mouth, fingertip teasing and stroking at her entrance, and she shook again, desperate beyond words. 

He slid his finger into her easy and deliberate, and it was so fiercely satisfying that Jane felt tears pricking at her eyes. Then his thumb joined his tongue on her clit, rubbing and licking in tandem. Her body seized and rolled, her cunt clenching around him, sharp pulses of ecstasy ricocheting through her as he kept working his mouth against her until she finally begged, “Stop, stop.”

He did, and immediately rose up to embrace her, kissing across her collarbone and pressing his body all along hers. She ran her hands through his hair and shivered through her last aftershocks against him.

“Oh, that was lovely,” she finally managed to pant. 

He rolled onto the pillow next to hers and snorted. “I think that’s the only compliment you Brits’ve got.” He mimicked a truly atrocious English accent and said, “Lovely weather, lovely tea, lovely fuck.”

She pinched his hip. “It’s a high compliment! And it’s never lovely weather. It’s always bollocks.”

He snorted again and tucked his face into her neck. They rested quietly for awhile, Jane playing with his hair, until he said, “I’ve got curfew in an hour.”

“How long will it take you to get back?” she replied softly.

“Twenty minutes.”

Jane turned onto her side, pulling his arm over her until he cuddled up against her back, nothing like the careless, sprawling way she and her love had slept in this bed before the war. “Stay a bit, then?” she asked.

He did.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually did research about nurses in England during WWII for this! (...and then promptly ignored most of it for the sake of porn.) There was no way to work in this fact, but I just have to [share it](http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ww2peopleswar/stories/33/a3396233.shtml): 
> 
> "There was no such thing as nylon sutures of course, and my fine red hair was often called into use. After being sterilised it was used to repair median nerves which had been damaged in forearm injuries caused by shrapnel. It evidently had the advantage of being both fine and strong!"
> 
> Come talk to me about how James Barnes will do anything for nurses with sad eyes over on [my tumblr](http://katrinastratford.tumblr.com).


End file.
